It’s like a denim farm exploded.
I would throw these men out of Starbucks.
Is Bobby playing the ‘There was a fly on your head’ game? Yes, Bobby is playing the ‘There was a fly on your head’ game.”
Just don’t look at him.
Ten bucks says Mickey called what he was smoking “SEE-gars.”
Seriously, don’t look at him.
“Gimme my beard back.”
“I said, ‘Gimme my–‘”
“I can’t hear you.”
“‘–beard back!’ You can hear me, dickwad.”
“I need it, man.”
“I need it, too.”
“Can, uh, you two stop fighting?”
“Shut up, Bobby.”
“Zip it, Weir.”
“Josh, slow down.”
“You’re like 40 years off, Weir.”
Nothing says “professionalism” like a couch pillow lazily stuffed in a bass drum.
Hey, Pig. Whatcha doing?
“Doin’ it, y’know!”
You were the hardest working man in show business.
“Nah. The ol’ Pig was lazy as sin an’ you know it! I liked to screw an’ watch teevee!”
Nothing wrong with that.
“Me an’ Garcia met the Godfather. I ever tell you this story?”
“1969. Him and us was both playin’ in New York City, so we went uptown to see him. Invited us backstage, gave us cold beers, treated us real nice. Talked to the man for twenty minutes!”
“I got no idea!”
“Couldn’t unnerstand a damned word!”
I’ve heard that about James Brown.
“An’ then he fined us fifty bucks apiece.”
I’ve heard that, too.
“We tried tellin’ him that we wasn’t even in his band, but he jus’ doubled the fines on us. That man ran a tight ship!”
You guys played one of his songs.
“It’s a Man’s World. Yeah, I liked doin’ that number.”
Why didn’t you do more of James Brown’s songs?
“Heh. We ain’t got the right kinda bass player.”
Nope. Why do you have two tambourines?
“You only got one, it gets lonely.”
I didn’t need to see this.
“No one invited you.”
Put your ass away.
“Suck on it.”
Why can’t you be civil?
“I don’t like you.”
NOT PICTURED: Mrs. Donna Jean, her hair having gotten tangled in the dangling ropes, being partially scalped during the jam section of Scarlet Begonias.
Wanna know what modern medicine means? Without it, you only got three people in the picture.
“I’m, uh, gonna put on the giant hat.”
“That’s Larry’s hat, Weir. Don’t put it on.”
“Phil, I hear you. I definitely hear you. But, uh, I’m putting the giant hat on.”
Good gravy, these people are Gentiles.
Hey, there, Birthday Boy.
One more orbit.
“Better than the alternative.”
True. How old are you now?
“Most of me is 78. Liver’s around 40.”
Do anything special today?
“Me and Jill woke up early, did the P90X.”
You love that.
“It combines fitness with fun.”
“Met the whole family for lunch.”
Where did you go?
“TXR. I had a whole batch of scallops that was about to go bad.”
“And tonight I got a show, and then after that is gonna be some birthday sexy time.”
“Weir gave me some sex gum he got from Billy.”
I hear that’s good stuff.
“Double-duty, too. Gives you a boner and freshens your breath.”
God bless America.
“Yeah, why not?”
“So, uh, if you’re happy with the way things are going, then you don’t have to vote. But if you’re not, well, then you should vote. If you’re a little bit warm, then you should take off your jacket. If, uh, you’ve got a cramp in your leg, then try walking around for a little.”
“Bob, you’re drifting.”
“Gimme a minute, here, Phil: I’m talking about democracy.”
“There’s a group of young people in the lobby called Headcount, and they’ll help you register. Right next to them is the merch table, and it’d really help us out if you bought some hoodies. We ordered too many.”
“Weir’s right, folks. We’re taking a bath on the hoodies.”
“So, uh, if you register to vote and buy a hoodie, then you get an autograph after the show.”
“Not from us.”
“No, not us. You get Wally’s.”
I CANNOT SIGN AUTOGRAPHS. I HAVE NO HANDS.
“The other Wally. How the hell did you get here?”
THE POWER OF IMAGINATION.
“We’ll be back in just a little bit.”
This is all the rehearsing that Furthur did.
“Bobby, stop calling me that.”
Even backstage, Mickey doesn’t get a real drum set.
Jeff Chimenti is a Shorts Die-Hard, isn’t he? Everybody knew one in college: the guy–it’s only guys that do this–who ALWAYS wears shorts, no matter what the weather or occasion. Usually, though, they’re fat guys or at least stocky. Jeff Chimenti is the skinniest SDH I’ve ever seen.
“Yeah, I’m gonna need the white people to stop encircling me, please.”
The fellow with the camera is Justin Kreutzmann–you know Justin–and he’s putting together a documentary about rock and roll drummers called Let There Be Drums. You can read about it, and see something called a sizzle reel, right here.
FUN FACT: For the past few years, Justin has been an editor on The Bachelorette.